Thoughtless Things
by Kaydance
Summary: This is my collection of drabbles, oneshots, and whatever else can be written in one sitting!
1. Vendettas

There are a few of these out there, and since I don't have a lot of time for writing, I thought I'd make my own lil' drabble/oneshot collection! There will be a couple more light-hearted ones in here eventually! I promise! xD I'll try to write at least one for all the major characters, and maybe a couple for minor characters too.

* * *

**Title: **Vendettas

**Rating**: Eh… PG…ish?

Phoebe didn't shake, didn't shed a tear. There was never a moment of doubt in her young mind. She never faltered in her determination; she had always been too clever for such pointless behavior.

The sword sat dimly in her hands, reflecting only the blue glow of her nightlight. The metal felt strangely comforting, almost warm; it contained memories of countless fencing lessons, of pride, of laughs.

Her father lay unconscious at the city hospital. He would pull through. That was almost certain. Almost.

Bitter blades could never match the ferocity of a child's heart, but… they could certainly try.


	2. Field Trip

Frighteningly enough, this is based on a true story.

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**Title**: Field Trip 

**Characters**: Mr. Simmons and various

I've always considered myself a fair teacher. I listen to my students, and help them as best I can. They're all just such special young people. There are some, though, whom are just naturally difficult. Thaddeus Gammelthorpe, or Curly, as the kids call him, is one of these children. I don't think its his fault, but… still…

"Excuse me, class, where is Curly?"

"You let him go to the bathroom. Remember, Mr. Simmons? He was whining, saying 'Mr. _Siiiimmmmons_, I have to go to the _baaaathrooom_!'"

"Yes, Harold, but that was at nearly half an hour ago. Can you go check on him?"

"Bu-but…. What if he jumps me?! He scares meee!"

Helga sat up straight then. "You're sending pudgy over there on a reconnaissance mission? He'll get lost. Just watch!"

"Rec… re-con-stit-ence? What's that? Stop confusing me!" Harold started to tear up.

"I believe Helga means the Renaissance, a period when fashion really began to bloom," stated Rhonda knowledably. "However, Helga, I hardly see how this fits in the context of your statement." She flipped her hair and smiled smugly.

I withheld a sigh. "Everybody! Get up!"

Silence and obedience. I smiled.

"We're all going on a field trip!"


	3. Because It's Not

**Title: **Because It's Not (The End of the World)

**Characters:** Arnold / Helga

**Notes:** (prepares to dodge bricks from A/H-shippers) I love them too! Just… uh… (hides) Hehe. Anyway, here's my take on a semi-common theme. And just for fun, this fanfic takes place on a specific date. I'll make a lil' note at the end on that.YAY! And I'm saying they're in their… late teens-ish? Because I can.

They sat silently on the park bench, watching the fiery orangey-red patch of sky where the sun had disappeared some time ago. "This has been a long time coming, Helga." The boy's gaze fell to his shoes.

A long time coming. Pft. They were a perfect couple, an adorable couple; they were going to last. Everybody said so. . And there was no way that _everybody_ could be wrong. It was statistically impossible, wasn't it? In fact, even logical Phoebe had stated absently that they would be together until the end of the world. Maybe that comment left too much of an impression, but still…

"It feels like we're just going through the motions. You wear the bow, I carry that poem with me everywhere. But, Helga… It doesn't feel real. Remember Easter our Freshmen year?"

Of course she did.

"_Come on… This is boring. And the wax stinks." Helga stuck a wax-covered egg under Arnold's nose and laughed as he reeled back in disgust._

"_Helga… you're the one who wanted to try pan… pans…pyans… Waxy Eggs." He held the __kystka__ over a candle and drew a messy heart on one egg, then dunked it in red dye._

"_So?" She jokingly slapped Arnold's cheek with one hand, but somehow forgot the unboiled egg she held. _

_Arnold sat wide-eyed as egg yolk dripped down the side of his face. "Hey! Whaddya do that for?" He grabbed his own ammunition from a basket of drying eggs and got to his feet, ready for fire._

_Helga made an uncharacteristic squeaking sound and grabbed a couple carefully designed eggs herself._

_And both waited for the first shot to be fired as their families watched on from across the table._

"We painted eggs like that every year afterward, but… Helga… It just didn't feel the same. And we didn't even bother last Easter… You've been planning everything we do, but you don't seem to be enjoying any of it. You're just…" He paused, eyes suddenly apologetic, and rested a hand on Helga's shoulder. But she didn't move; she didn't look at him. The toes of her boots were dug into the icy ground and she was fiddling her thumbs. "Helga. Talk to me."

She wasn't going to talk to him because he wasn't saying anything. What was he getting at? Why had he brought her out to the park in December? Why was he using her name every possible chance he got, as though he didn't think she was listening.

"I know you're thinking it too, Helga."

Five. That made five times he had stuck her name in a sentence. Was it really necessary? There wasn't anyone else at the park.

His grip tightened painfully on her shoulder. "I love you, but I think it's over."

Helga's hands curled into fists. She got to her feet in a whirling motion, freeing herself from Arnold's grasp. "No." Her voice was curt and matter-of-fact.

Arnold didn't respond, as though he had been struck dumb by that one little word.

"We aren't just going to _end_. We're meant to be. We—are—forever. And you know what, _Arnoldo?_ Things aren't that simple because…"

Suddenly, the park felt too still and a reflection in the snow forced Helga to turn. Her jaw dropped instantly. She hadn't been the one to drive Arnold to speechlessness. No. Not by a longshot.

That orange spot in the sky hadn't given way to night—quite to the contrary; it had expanded, claiming the entire Western sky. A brilliant, snaking ribbon of fire formed a dazzling arc and split into blinding white rays.

"Because…It's not…"

**A/Ns ctnd**: This lil' ficlet took place on December 21, 2012, the day when the Mayans fortold that the world will end. For added world-endy-ness, there's a superstition that the world will end if the pysanka egg-decorating tradition ever stops (Helga and Arnold hadn't decorated eggs the previous Easter… Yup) Hope you enjoyed!


	4. Love is Blind

**Title**: Love is Blind

**Characters:** Mainly Brainy, thinkin' bout his Helga. Gloria's in here too.

**Notes:** Ahaha… I wrote something almost kinda cute. Yay me. There's no school, the roads are too snowy to go anywhere, and I'm bored… So I must write! This, like the Vendettas thing is exactly 100 words. I have a hard time shaving things down to an exact number of words, but I managed. xD

……………………………………..

They say love's blind, and judging by countless pairs of glasses broken by my love, I'd say "they're" right.

Sometimes, I can't help but believe that love is too blind, that I'm chasing a mirage.

But now, I'm next to Gloria, who is holding out a tray of cookies with a sugar-coated smile. She's not speaking. I'm not speaking. It's a battle of silence. I think I'll win.

But when it comes right down to it, love is always blind. I find Helga after scouring the halls. I stand before her (not lurking behind) nervously, holding out the heart-shaped cookie.


	5. Fate is Only Copper

**Title:** Fate is Only Copper

**Notes: **Heh… Another Arnold/Helga thing…. They're nine, maybe ten. It doesn't matter, really. (goes into hiding)

…………………………………………..

Heads. The copper-colored coin landed face-side up.

Helga scowled disdainfully at the coin, as though it had just stolen something irreplaceable from her. "Okay, then," she hissed. "Does he ever think about me? Tails, yes; heads, no." She twirled the coin and closed her eyes until it was still.

Heads.

"Am I crazy for feeling this way?"

Tails.

"Will we ever be together?"

"Will this get easier?"

"Am I just torturing myself by holding out hope?"

Heads, heads, tails.

Helga stared blankly at the penny. She had been sitting at her kitchen table, alone with that coin, for the past hour. Each answer made sense, and no answer was positive. Helga had come to the conclusion that the Powers That Be themselves had sent her this cursed piece of copper. It was strange, that something so worthless could answer such important questions—that currency that couldn't even buy a pack of gum could predict the future and read minds. But it did. And this all-knowing cent hated her and threw rotten strawberries at her dreams.

"You really think you know everything, don't you?" She spoke with loathing dripping from every syllable.

Tails.

Fascinating. This was truly fascinating.

"Can I prove you wrong?"

Heads.

Helga grabbed another penny from a coin dish. She would prove that penny wrong, by bringing in back-up. Maybe this one would have more confidence in her.

"Okay… Tell me that I'm destined to marry that footballhead!" She tossed both coins into the air. As they fell to the linoleum and rolled away, Helga chased after them.

Heads. Both of them. She had given those coins a direct order and they had disobeyed her! It was horribly ridiculous, but there it was. Fate had spoken. And there was no contradicting it.

"Stupid pennies," she muttered, kicking the coins somewhere where they would never be found—underneath the refrigerator.

With a grumble, she grabbed her backpack from the back of her chair and went to the door. "I'm going to school, now, Miriam!"

Silence. Crimeney. But what did she expect?

………………………

Helga stood in line at lunch, tapping her foot impatiently. The day had been dull. Nothing to write home about, really. She reached the front of the line, paid, and left with her food. See? Dull.

But dull as it was, that penny's message beat painfully in her mind. Before she realized what she was doing, she was standing at Arnold's table, sitting down across from him.

"Hey, Arnold-o! Mind if I sit here today? Course ya don't!" She plopped down and blinked, realizing she had bought two smoothies. With a shrug, she set the extra in front of the wide-eyed boy. "Here! Have a smoothie!" His friends all expressed shock and perhaps a tad of discomfort.

"Wh…." Arnold tried a word, but didn't quite manage to finish it.

Helga smiled in response. _I can prove a penny wrong, can't I?_

Suddenly, Helga realized that there was something under her foot. She looked down, noticing a shiny penny there.

Tails.

And she laughed. Regardless of what should have been a terribly uncomfortable moment—sitting directly across from her crush, with him and all of his friends gaping at her—she laughed.

……………………………..

**Notes ctnd:** Yup… Wasn't that fun? xD The penny said she could prove it wrong. Aw. My next lil' story will be about Sid. Mhm. I'm almost done with it… maybe next weekend.


	6. Come Back

**Title: Come Back**

**Pairings: Arnold / Helga **

**Notes: Yay for 100 words! xD I wrote this for zee Helga's birthday which is… sometime this week!**

She hadn't noticed; she honestly hadn't. It was terrifying how the sudden absence of one little slip of fabric could send the blonde's world crumbling into nonexistence. She just _had_ to stand on that hilltop. It was freezing and windy, but the sun was shining that March day and it was beautiful… and she wanted to feel the sun on her skin, regardless of the cold.

She hadn't even noticed as the bow came untied and was carried away. The precious memory was gone. Irretrievable.

"Happy birthday, Helga," came Arnold's voice. In his outstretched hand was that irreplaceable pink ribbon.


	7. SOS

**Meh… I got bored, so I typed this lil' story-type thing. Semi-continuation of Because It's Not (the End of the World). **

**S.O.S. (Save Our Sanity)**

Two weeks, five days, and some number of hours that mayhaps Big Bob would have been able to count had he remembered his watch had been spent in the bomb shelter of a basement everyone had called him crazy for building. He had been preparing for the "unavoidable" alien invasion, but he didn't much want to climb outside to see if he was right.

He was fine and dandy, with all the freeze-dried, two-thirds-inedible astronaut-food he could ever eat. And his basement had become a regular Bed and Breakfast for people he had never met. Well, there were no beds, and breakfasts were more or less optional. Actually, eating breakfast was heavily frowned upon—it was viewed as greedy in the Great Pataki Empire (hey it _was_ his basement after all).

As days passed, Bob found that it was near-impossible to learn everyone's names. Nicknames were invented for a reason, and that reason was because what he chose to name people was indeed much better than what their parents could ever call them.

Names like Nug, Big-Nosed Guy, and Bologna Kid were far easier to remember than Milligan McGurtrey or SomethingOrOther Patterson, or Thaddeus Gammelthorpe.

Yes, The Basement was a grand place indeed. His children weren't there. Or his wife. But that was okay, because he had his subjects to rule over, and there was no possible way that a Pataki could die in or around the Great Pataki Empire. As long as they were within a two-hundred mile radius, they were fine, and would return.

In the meantime, he would help himself to some gravy-powder.


	8. Beneath You

**Notes: What the holy frickerdoodles? A one-shot? Where's Hungry Hearts? I'm still working on it (I'm about 2500-ish words in, so it should be done soon, since I'm not big on long chappies. I hit some serious writer's block). School sucks. It does. I have so many hours of homework every night, and I make so many stupid mistakes on all my quizzes/tests… but I digress. xD On with the story, a little tale about a certain funny taste in someone's mouth. The quote and title are both from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Fic slightly based on the scene from the quote.**

**Cecily:** Your poetry, it's... they're... not written about _me_, are they?  
**William:** They're about how I feel.  
**Cecily:** Yes, but are they about _me_?  
**William:** Every syllable.

**Cecily:** Oh God!

**William:** I know I'm a bad poet, but I'm a good man. All I ask is that... is that you try to see me—  
**Cecily:** I do see you — that's the problem! You're nothing to me, William. You're beneath me.

-- "Fool For Love", Buffy the Vampire Slayer. (Verbal exchange)

……………………………………

**Beneath You**

It's you—you spin my eyes back, twist them into the light 'til you'd think I couldn't see. But I _do_; I see all too well, just how imperfect you are—gangly and awkward and oh-so wrong, watching the floor as you twitch and fidget. You look up, right at me and I can taste copper on the back of my tongue, coating my mouth, slick and slippery and sudden where bubble gum used to be.

And I find myself in my private haven, surrounded by perfection—blond and green, soft and kind and so filled with dreams and potential, but that taste… it stays there, lingering and unkind. I brush my teeth, covering copper with mint and oranges, drink it down with grape juice and yahoo soda. Nothing works.

Phoebe says it's adrenaline, or serotonin, or something along those lines. Miriam tells me that certain pills cause similar results. And I go to sleep, tasting copper on every breath.

I watch blond against blue the color of the sky and that oddly-shaped head, his back turned to me and I sigh, just a little. Sometimes, I feel eyes on _my_ back, eyes that are probably a coppery color and a coppery taste, in the back of the room, hidden away in a shadowy corner, and I'll never turn around to check. _Never_.

You're always there, lurking at the bottom of my throat, fifty-thousand steps beneath my sun-soaked reverie.

I turn a corner and there you are; my hands curve into fists. There's metal around your eyes, bent and crooked, remnants of me, but I add another bend, as though nothing has changed, as though copper hasn't suddenly flooded my mouth. My stomach ties itself in knots and I watch you fall.

You never seem to care. Never, never, never…

Never-ever.

I run back towards Perfect, towards world-travels and Victorian Christmases, late-night walks and silent conversations. (They always end in smiles and laughter; we communicate so well.)

But you'll be there again tomorrow, with your probably-copper eyes, never a winner (but bronze is made of copper, isn't it? Sorry, you were so close). My head runs marathons (_gold, gold, gold_) until it falls, and I fall, slow but heavy against the snow-sprinkled cement.

I see again, cloudy skies and softly falling snow, melting on the tip of my nose. You stand above me, regardless of… everything. And your eyes, they're not copper at all, they're green, darker than his, asymmetrical for one missing lens. You kneel down and I scream—push myself up and stumble to my feet.

"Umm… Helga?" you ask the sky, the snow. Not me. Please, not me.

I stand, poised to take flight, to turn and run (away from you). My head burns and that damned copper, so strong it dominates every scent, every taste… I swallow, swallow, swallow. My muscles relax; I can't will them to carry me.

I fall to my knees, only able to look up at you.

………………………………**.**

**The End? I guess. The question mark doesn't mean I have any intention of writing more. It means that this story kept not wanting to end. Seriously. I had no clue how to finish it, but this is good enough. I like the change in power, if you get what I mean. The word "above" was used very deliberately towards the end, what with it being the opposite of beneath and all. Heh. **

**Also, I think something was seriously wrong with Helga in this fic. She seems extra-crazy. Also-also, I may not like Helga and Brainy together, but unrequited love triangles make for a fun writing. And we rarely get to see Helga think about Brainy (Helga thinks about him a little in my unposted chapter of HH, but of course, it's a very little).**

**Fact check: I don't know if serotonin (which effects anxiety, aggression, sexuality, vomiting, etc) causes a coppery taste in the mouth. But apparently, anti-depressants can cause that taste (I did come research on that), and anti-depressants effect serotonin and all, so assumptions can be made. High levels of serotonin in the body can cause high fevers, hallucinations, nausea, agitation, "mental confusion", etc. I don't know why Helga would have such high levels of serotonin though. ((shrugs)). Also, I do know that the coppery taste comes when one feels cornered/extremely guilty/scared. It's awful. I like mentioning that taste in my stories.**

**My notes are almost as long as the oneshot! xD LOL! Sorry!  
**


	9. Out of Reach

**Notes: This is something of a continuation of 'Beneath You', because it seemed like such a weird little story, even by my standards. First-person POVs tend to be… kind of not my thing. But I shall attempt another, in which Arnold sits on his rooftop. Also continues the above/beneath theme. Enjoy!**

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**

**Out of Reach**

I like to dream. I'll admit that without hesitation or shame. I dream about floating in space sometimes, or about trekking through the vast jungles of San Lorenzo, where there are screaming macaws and brightly colored little frogs. The air is warm and it always rains…

I'm not there now. I know that. Snow is falling from some invisible shaved ice machine and they're so far away. Even if I ran down my fire escape now, even if I literally _flew_ there, I wouldn't change anything. Funny, I never thought I'd be struck by the infamous bystander's syndrome. Maybe that's not quite what it is. She has help, after all. That one kid's down there, the one with the spiked hair and broken glasses. The one who sits in the back of the class and really should smile more.

She looks scared, or anxious, or maybe delirious, and I honestly wish she weren't so far away. I could help if the distance were just a little less, but there are miles and miles between us. Maybe if the snow were rain and the crows were macaws, maybe then things would be different.

I like to dream, but I believe I already told you that. He offers her a hand, and I think to myself that there is _no way_ she'll accept his help. But she does… and it's a little weird. No… a lot weird, that one would reach for what's above them.

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**Notes ctnd: ((shrugs)) Oh, Arnold… ever the dreamer. I wonder… did he think Brainy to be beneath Helga, Helga to be beneath Brainy, or himself to be beneath Helga (what? I wrote it and I don't know? xD)? The first or last seem most plausible, but any of the three could be. **

**Also, I have zero percent of the next HH chapter done. It's the one chapter that I didn't have sketched out in my head ahead of time.**

**Also, also: I wrote a college admittance essay on Hey Arnold! xD Yup. I'm such a superloserdork. But it was either that or recycling an old English essay.**

**I hope everyone's enjoying the holiday season! Much love!**


	10. Confidant

**Sometimes, no one wants to say names. But we all know who they're talking about anyway.**

**Confidant **

Phoebe unloaded her backpack onto the park bench—books, papers, notes, pencils, pens, and highlighters in five different colors, practical and out-of-place amongst the crisp Spring smells and the bright Spring sunshine.

Far off, beyond the shade of the tree, near the glimmer of the duck-pond, she could make out two figures, one familiar and one less so. They were throwing bread crumbs, or maybe popcorn; she couldn't quite tell. And though the sound was faint, she could hear the girl _laughing_. That girl didn't deserve to laugh, let alone to be standing where _she_ should have been.

The bench creaked under a new pressure and an almost raspy voice sounded at Phoebe's side. "Uh, Phoebe?" He cleared his throat. "How's it going?"

"Same. It won't last. Watch them."

He glanced over assortment of books and whatnots, then looked to the couple by the water. "You, um… didn't come out here to study… did you?"

"Brilliant as ever, Brainy," Phoebe sighed. "But it's always like this. We're together, we break up, he finds someone new, they break up, and the cycle begins again anew."

"Then maybe you shouldn't worry about it, look away for a while? This one's been almost a year…"

"Maybe you should do the same. I mean… How are _they_?"

"Same. It won't last," Brainy stated curtly.

"Maybe… you should be happy for her."

"Maybe you should be happy for him."

A silence settled in and the couple by the duck pong embraced.

"So, what now?" asked Phoebe, very quietly, very unimportantly.

"Now, you actually study and I get back to making sure I'm there after my people finish not lasting," Brainy said with a small smirk.

"Instead, why don't you stay here and quiz me on these biology notes? I have a test tomorrow…"

Brainy picked up one of the highlighters and began coloring in a leaf. "Sure, they'll probably last, at least until tomorrow, I mean. I can be there then."

"And if they're still together after tomorrow? Both 'couples', I mean." She air-quoted the word 'couples'.

"Then I hope you have a lot more notes that need studying."

And Phoebe laughed.


End file.
